Remember when I was all like “Watch me, readers, I’m losing weight at LIGHTNING SPEED!!!” Remember when I was posting blogs about jogging and eating healthy and finding my inner athlete? Well, I realized yesterday, as I polished off an entire bag of Chex Mix, that there’s a good chance I hadn’t mentioned how far off track I’ve gotten in the past few months.
See, first there was summer. Then there was kidney stones and injuries and vacations and road trips and general time-wasting. And now there’s just…boredom and laziness, compiled with an ever-expanding waistline and too-tight jeans.
And so, my sad, crumby truth is that I’ve spent the last 4 months regaining more than half of the weight I managed to lose at the beginning of the year.
It started off with little things: a teaspoon of sugar on my multi-grain Cheerios, a diet soda with lunch, a homemade pizza with extra cheese. But you know what they say….trigger foods create a dieter’s worst nightmare. I went from occasional treats to constant cravings. From eating out twice a month to eating out twice a week. From a random diet soda on a random afternoon to having a 12-pack of Pepsi in my fridge.
It’s a slippery slope, people.
I’m not the only one who’s suffered from my lack-of-will-power, either. If I put a green leafy salad with simple grilled chicken in front of my husband, he will eat it with gusto. If I put a huge grilled steak with a twice-baked potato slathered in sour cream and cheese in front of my husband, he will eat it with an equal amount of gusto. And when I say, “Babe, I’m craving chocolate,” he doesn’t just come home with a candy bar. He comes home with OPTIONS: ice cream, miniature Reese cups and a Paula Deen double-chocolate pound cake.
It’s true. He loves me.
But we rarely acknowledge the growing tummies that separate us when we hug.
I think about starting over at least 100 times a day. Each time I look in the mirror, each time I struggle to button my jeans, each time my knee cracks when I heft myself off of the couch. And then I’m faced with taking the actual steps—tossing out the junk food, making that first grocery list, digging out my calorie counting apps and notebooks—and I totally stall out. I just don’t have the energy.
Instead I’m all like:
“But Abby, you’d have the energy if you’d start working out again!”
Yeah, yeah. I already know that. In fact, I know a LOT about weight loss.
I know what it takes to lose weight. I know the math. I know the foods I should avoid. I know how many calories I have to burn each day. I know the proper form for a push-up. I know running is harder on the joints, but better for the burn, than time spent on an elliptical. I know that “low-fat” options aren’t always better than regular fat options in moderation. I know the first step is just doing something about it instead of complaining with no action.
I know, I know, I know, I know, I KNOW!!!
What I don’t know is why I keep failing. Why I’d rather put on my pajamas and lay on the couch than run a lap around my neighborhood. I don’t know why I lose 30 or 35 pounds, only to give up just when I’m starting to really get a good head of steam going. I don’t know why I give up. I just do.
So now begins the tedious task of psyching myself up to do it all over again. I have to convince myself that it’s worth it. That I’m worth it. I have to try and forget the achy muscles, sore calves, and blistered feet, and instead try and focus on better sleep, thinner thighs, more energy. I need to jump-start my life.
Got any jumper cables I can borrow?